Arthur's Armor
by The Ones Who Waited
Summary: *Two points of view on a concept* Arthur had beautiful armor... *One-sided Merthur*
1. Merlin

_**Arthur's Armor**_

**Disclaimed (or I would be rich and everything would be Merthur)**

**As is usual, angsty and short.**

**I don't even know this timeline. It's a little wonky.**

Arthur had beautiful armor.

_Beautiful armor for a beautiful man…_

Merlin shook the thought free and returned to the armor. He had polished it so often it shone constantly, even after a battle. He oiled the joins so that when Arthur moved, it followed his actions perfectly.

_Yes, when he moved, the armor followed every curve of Arthur's muscles, hugged his body close…_

Merlin sighed. He had thought that polishing the armor manually would get his mind off of this, distract him. But it seemed to make it worse.

Actually, if he had to admit it, everything made it worse. Arthur was everywhere: in the way that Gwen laughed, the food that Merlin ate, even the stupid clothes that Merlin had to wear. There was no escaping him.

Even when Merlin tired, there was no escaping him. Their destinies were intertwined; they were two sides of the same coin. Merlin had no doubt that, without him, Arthur would be killed in a day. Probably twice in the same day, knowing the prince's luck.

_Why couldn't I be intertwined with someone less handsome? _Merlin groaned, resting his head on the table, the armor polished. And then that word, _intertwined,_ led Merlin to those very thoughts he was trying to avoid.

"Dammit." He muttered, picking up the (immaculate) armor. He dropped it off at Arthur's room and skulked around to the kitchens. Maybe he could get some food or something.

But then he heard Arthur's voice and froze. A girl (Gwen he could tell, it was Gwen, of course it was) giggled. Merlin turned around and went to his room, a knot in his chest. Luckily, Gaius was out.

Ever since Arthur and Gwen had… well, become closer, Merlin had been avoiding him. Both Gwen and Arthur had tried to talk to him about it, but he refused. He could handle Gwen, and he could handle Arthur (oh, he _wished_), but what he couldn't handle was them together.

Arthur knew he was jealous, but he assumed it was of him. After all, Arthur had started the rumour that Gwen and Merlin were in love. Se he expected Merlin to be jealous when he and Gwen fell in love.

And Merlin was jealous, furiously jealous, pathetically jealous, but of Gwen.

Gwen, who was sweet and gentle and Merlin's friend. Gwen, who, even though she was a servant, had a better chance with Arthur because she was, at least, a girl. While Merlin was not. Not even close.

So, while they were friends, he hated her.

Because it was Gwen who had Arthur's attention, Gwen who had Arthur's time, Gwen who had Arthur's heart.

While all Merlin had was his armor.


	2. Arthur

_**Chapter 2: Arthur**_

**A point of view brought to my attention by the fabulous xXMistressMadHatterXx**

**This chapter's a little abstract, apologies.**

**Arthur admires his armor...**

* * *

><p>Arthur really had beautiful armor.<p>

No one noticed, of course; Arthur didn't think he would have been able to handle it if they did. There was a moment where, once, he thought Gwen was getting wise to that fact, but he quickly corrected the problem.

So now, no one but Arthur noticed.

And that was how he liked it.

Oh, it wasn't classically beautiful: its ears stuck out and it laughed at the most inopportune times. But it did its job well. Damn well. In fact, Arthur had never felt safer than when he had it around.

And yes, it could be insolent, and yes, it could sulk, but it was always there for him.

Arthur wouldn't have it any other way.

He needed his armor, and, sometimes (in moments of quiet thought), he thought his armor needed him.

He hoped it did. Because his armor was _his,_ and always his. And, somehow, he couldn't bear the thought of his armor unhappy. Arthur wanted it to be happy, almost as much as he wanted himself happy, sometimes.

He told himself it was because the armor protected him so well, but it all went back to the beauty.

The not-so-secret beauty of his armor. That beauty kept him awake at night, hovered underneath his eyelids when he blinked.

Oh, who was he kidding? Arthur groaned. Certainly not himself.

The truth was, Arthur hated his armor. It was clunky and heavy and stiff (though not as stiff as it used to be), and it reminded him of all that awaited him, all his father's pressure.

The affection he felt was for Merlin, for the boy who was always there when Arthur needed him, for the friend who would always protect him.

Out of some sense of loyalty, perhaps, maybe affection.

Not out of love.

Never, not once, had Merlin given a sign that he returned Arthur's feelings, though, to be fair, Arthur hadn't exactly made his feelings _known._

And he never would.

For now, he was content with admiring Merlin, his human armor.

For now, it was enough that Arthur, and Arthur alone, could see his beauty.


End file.
